


EXATE

by Moonshiro, parkjaebeomie (Rafee)



Category: EXO (Band), Sense8 (TV)
Genre: 2ho, Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Sense8 (TV) Fusion, Anal Sex, Bisexuality, Blood and Violence, Explicit Language, F/M, Gang Violence, Homosexuality, Implied/Referenced Torture, KaiSoo - Freeform, M/M, Masturbation, Mutilation, Oral Sex, Self-Mutilation, Vaginal Sex, chani - Freeform, layhun - Freeform, pansexuality, sense8au, sexing, sookai, xiubaek
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-01-26
Packaged: 2019-10-13 01:19:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17478569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonshiro/pseuds/Moonshiro, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rafee/pseuds/parkjaebeomie
Summary: [Exo:OT9 | Sense8!Au] Eight different people, scattered all around the world are mentally intertwined after a strange nightmare where they see a stranger throwing himself out of a building. Now they must run against the clock to prevent a catastrophe, while at the same time reconcile their personal conflicts.





	1. Histamine

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [EXATE](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/450605) by twomoons and ShiroKohta. 



> English isn't our first language!!. thanks to our lovely Leticia, for helping us with this english version, love you babe~~  
> This fanfiction is inspired in the netflix show Sense8  
> This fanfiction was also posted in portuguese on wattpad and social spirit.  
> Enjoy!!

**_Histamine:_ ** _In the hypothalamus the neurotransmitter_

_histamine regulates thermal functions related to awakening._

 

**London, England. 03:00am**

_“You need to stop them and protect the others like us” “Don’t let them win” “Protect ‘em all”_

JongIn woke up startled. His heart pounded frantically in his ribcage as his chest rose and fell, panting. With trembling hands, he lifted them to his face, wiping away the beads of sweat. Across the bedroom, the clock on the wall indicated three o’clock in the morning. He had four hours until the actual hour he should wake up, but now that he was awake, it didn’t look as if he could sleep again, the reason being the strange nightmare. The sight of that man throwing himself out of the building in an eternal loop made him distressed. The dream had been so real, it seemed he and the stranger were one. JongIn was able to feel every sensation of the other, the despair before the fall until the moment of unconsciousness.

He sighed heavily and inevitably, the young man stood up. Bare feet against the cold floor, he walked a few steps to the kitchen to prepare a cup of coffee. JongIn lived in a small two-room loft in the suburbs of the City of London, a simple apartment, but for him who was alone, it was good enough. After the coffee was made, the boy walked towards a small terrace which led to the emergency stairs outside the building, regretting bitterly that he didn’t get dressed more properly. The dawn in London was colder than the days, therefore, the steam coming out of his mouth with every breath mingled up with the one coming out of the chipped porcelain mug. His brown eyes were lost in the city ahead and from where he was, JongIn could see the beautiful view of the London Bridge and its red lighting cutting across the River Thames. Moments like this when he couldn’t sleep properly, JongIn liked to hear the noise of cars, the roars of engines, to know that he wasn’t the only one in that great city awoken at such an inappropriate hour. It made him feel less alone.

But that man in his dreams…. Why could he not forget him? And who was he? He’d never seen the man before but still had the feeling the he’d knew him forever. For some reason JongIn was feeling different, but not the different that makes you feel anxiety or an expectation for the next day or a physical change. His different was deeper. It felt like he was several people at once.

 

 

JongIn entered the Bourbon Café with a smile on his face. The small café was still empty of customers by having just opened its doors, but his morning workmates were already there. Niall a junior high school student with black hair and blue sapphire eyes was behind the counter today would be his day at the cash register. By his side Hansel was finishing tidying the last cupcakes in the shop display.

— Good morning, kids — JongIn smiled, going behind the counter earning a friendly grunt in return. He headed to the back of the store, past the kitchen, greeting the staffs around, and heading toward the small dressing room of the staffs to wore his uniform: a blue polo shirt with pink details and khaki pants.

— You look awful. Did you spent the night awake doing gods know-what?

The woman leaning against the doorway was in her fifties, her curly red hair falling on her shoulders, her white skin covered with freckles. Eleanor had been the only one who hasn’t filled a fourteen-year-old-runaway JongIn with questions about his family, she just gave him food and a temporary shelter when the cold was too much in the streets and understood when he finally explained his escape. JongIn was already twenty-one, but he was still at her side, working at the same café she owned as a form of thank-you.

— I had a nightmare and couldn’t sleep, actually.

— I see — She said, staring at him for a few seconds before she sighed. It had been so long that he was with Eleanor that JongIn knew when the woman wanted to tell him something delicate — What about college? Have you signed up yet, JongIn?

He scowled and restrained himself not to roll his eyes.

— Yes, dear Eleanor. Don’t worry, hm? — He chose to say approaching her — Now, will my boss allow me to work?  
  
— Go Go. You think you fool me, Kim!

 

 

The work day went like any other. JongIn cleared tables, served customers with a smile on his face, received tips and won phone numbers from the most adventurous customers. It was already six at night and the doors were already closing when he received a text message from an unknown number that only said: “00:00”. A sly grin appeared on his lips as he pulled on his coat. JongIn said good bye to Eleanor at the counter and heads out into the cold streets of the London towards his small apartment, he could not wait to get his hands on his girl and speed around.

The first time JongIn sat on a motorcycle he was just a passenger. He was only sixteen years old, and he remembered well how much he felt alive and as if he owned the world by running at a hundred miles an hour without even being the one in the steering wheel. The illegal races appeared in his life as work of fate, the first races were just for fun, he didn’t care about winning and he didn’t even had a motorcycle yet. After a few victories the money was coming in and what he earned was much more than a month’s work in the Bourbon and with theses victories came the recognition and the name Kai, his races were always the first of the night and such like the meaning behind his nickname, Kai opened the spectacle with a golden key.

The engine of the BMW S 100RR blue and white vibrated between his legs. With the helmet on his head, he couldn’t hear much, but the little he could along with the sight of the people gathered around the track, the screams were loud. A green-haired girl headed toward the center of the track between the two bikes. Kai hadn’t looked at his opponent, he usually didn’t, the most he cared about was the model of the others motorcycle. She lifted her arms above her head, brandishing a checkered flag, and when the flag came down, his motorcycle had already accelerated and dashed through the streets.

He knew the city with the palm of his hand almost as if he had a GPS in his brain. With the flow of a professional motorcyclist, Kai dodged the few cars that were still on the streets, the well-paid police, bribed by the owner of the races, became blind to them. Everything and everybody in front of him passed like a blur and that was what he loved the most. The taste of danger on the tip of his tongue, the violence with which the wind caressed his skin, the feeling of being master of the world and time. Running for Kai was almost as natural as breathing, he felt as if he was born for it.

In the distance he could already see the finish line, his long fingers tightly against the accelerator, making the bike gain more speed. A bright smile opened on his face as he passed the finish line and finally stopped the bike. A group of spectators came towards him to congratulate and Kai took off his helmet running his hand through his black hair with a wider smile as he saw the opposing motorcycle approaching the arrival line few minutes later. The adrenaline rushing through his veins was better than any drug he’d ever tried and the victory was even more addictive.

— Wow! There’s more money here than usual — He said holding the two rolls of cash in his hands, smiling. Cale laughed pointing to a spot behind him. He turned around, finding the guy he had run up against looking at him angrily. Kai was already used to that kind of look.

— His gang bet everything they had that you were going to lose badly, it looks like it’s not this time.

Cale laughed, patted him on the back, bid good bye to the owner of the track and headed to the exit, the guys still looking at him.

— Next time make sure you’re going to win, mate.

Kai said grinning as he passed his opponent putting the money inside his jacket pocket. He climbed on his motorcycle, gaining once more the streets, but now with calmness and satisfaction running in his veins.

 

 

✤

**Marseille, France. 07:05pm**

The flashes did not blind him anymore. In fact he was already quite familiar with the various clicks against his face, the ever closer lenses, and buzz of the countless questions asked to him in the press room.

            Junmyeon Kim was a descendant of Koreans born in France. He was currently one of the most beloved and acclaimed soccer players not only of Olympique of Marseille, but of all UEFA teams. He had just come out of a game, taking time to just change his sweat shirt to another equally clean, white and blue, which fit perfectly the striker number 12. The smile showing all perfectly set of white teeth remained present on his lips, while he calmly answered one question or another, letting his gaze fall to the coach one time or another. The truth was that being a high-profile player like Kim was brought an almost irrevocable fame, and made him the owner of an enviable oratory. Kim was much more than a very rich player of the French League. He was practically an artist acclaimed and desired by many young people, stamping the most famous magazines covers.

— And what are your expectations for the game against PSG? — A blonde reporter asked, and Kim merely nodded briefly before speaking.

— Our mentality is the same as any and every game. Our rivals have their peculiarities. We learn to never overestimate and never underestimate. We are giving our best and training in search of our ultimate goal, which is to be champions. We are aware of the power that permeates around PSG, but we try not to concentrate on it and only visualize what competes for us to be the best in the field — He replied sympathetically, his smile still impregnated on his thin lips.

— You and Minho Choi are the top scores of this year’s campaign with the same number of goals. Does this in any way influence your performance in the game? — This time a male voice asked almost at the same time the Frenchman took a sip of water in the bottle on the table.

— Minho is an exceptional player. I have full recognition of the campaign he is doing this year. But as I said before, I try to think only of what it’s up to me. I’m always looking to give my maximum, game after game, in the quest to surpass only myself. If this results in good numbers in the end, I’m happy. My focus is just to beat myself, I always see me as my biggest rival.

Some more questions were made but soon the club closed the press conference and still smiling kindly, Kim waved to some photographers and reporters before disappearing before the cameras, after all, he needed a good shower.

— I think we’ll get a big sponsorship for the team thanks to you. I didn’t get to read contracts or anything, but the club seems very enthusiastic — The woman’s voice seemed have sprung from the ground and stood right next to the player heading into the locker room.

— Which company?

— Bifrost company — She said in a half-smile as Kim simply nodded — You also have a interview tomorrow for a magazine.

— What magazine?

— Some teenager one. You know you’re rated the cutest and handsome player of the year, so… You’re going to be very present in advertisements aimed at teens and probably female audience.

— And you tell me all this with a huge grimace. Don’t you think I look handsome, Isabelli? — The brunette man asked in a half smile, eventually giving a laugh when received a towel in the face.

— You’re an idiot. Playing seductive games with me when you in reality is the gayest guy I know — The Frenchwoman said in a mocking tone, the red hair falling on her face one time or another — I keep trying to understand how these girls are still so crazy about you, when you are openly gay.

— I try to think that the world is changing and that things are getting better. Being gay does not take away my incredible beauty.

— I want to throw up when you start with these things, y’know? I don’t have idea why I’m still your manager.

— Because I know there’s hope in your heart that I’m bisexual and going to take you to my bed — He said cheerfully as he took off his shirt since he’d arrived in the locker room.

— Over my dead body. Anyway, take your shower and let’s go straight to your apartment. Your interview is early and I don’t want you pissing me off because you slept bad and had nightmares.

— You don’t live without me, Belli — He said sending a kiss to the girl who gave him a middle finger, making him laugh again disappearing into one of the shower cabins.

— Hey, handsome. Your cute Choi posted a picture on Instagram totally shirtless after working out… It would be a shame if I had just got your cell phone, right? — Belli said in a evil tone, increasingly moving away from the door, losing the image of a Junmyeon all naked and full of soap screaming in to the air for her to return the phone. He had to see all the glory of Choi Minho’s abs.

 

 

✤

 

**Berlin, Germany. 22:00pm**

 

The Asian boy stumbling along the alleys of Berlin seemed like an easy target for any bad guy looking for a good stealing. Wearing typical teenage clothes and a backpack he looked totally out of place there. But everyone in the vicinity knew him well enough and knew better than to underestimate him by appearance. Minseok wasn’t somebody to play with, being one of the youngest and best dealers of Tricalae. At the age of twenty-five, he already had a small empire in hands. His feet carried him to a dead-end street, the wet ground of the recent rain that had just fallen, made him walk down carefully so he wouldn’t slip and even wrapped up in leather gloves covering his hands, he could still feel the cold on his skin. He turned a corner, discreetly nodding to two men guarding the beginning of dead end of the street. From the beginning of the street it could already hear the electronic music vibrating in the night and the group of young people in line, all anxious to enter the most popular nightclub of that region because of their djs and easy access to the best drugs on market. Pulling the mask on his face leaving only the cat eyes to show and pulling the cap further down his head, Minseok headed for the side of the nightclub, toward a metal door that would lead to the back of the establishment. The security guard in the alleyway as soon as he recognized him let Minseok through by opening the door. Inside, Minseok soon managed to get rid of the disguise by removing his cap, revealing his curly black hair, his gray sweatshirt, and wearing only a black V-neck T-shirt, and with his gloves he packed everything inside his backpack.

He walked through the dark corridors to a room with five TV monitors that broadcast what happened in every corner of the nightclub and outside, with a table in its center with a few chairs. Inside the room a blond boy was sitting in front of a computer and an equally blond woman watched the cameras, time and time talking in his walkie-talkie, probably in contact with the security guards in the nightclub.

— How is it going? — Minseok asked as he entered the room and the other two stood up quickly greeting him.

— All right, boss — Lex answered and Minseok approached her. His eyes scanned the screens that showed the dance floor and bar, saw some of his men sitting in the VIP area.

— And the load, Heiko? — He asked the boy who sat up in his chair.

— Already left the dock and it’s on the way to the HQ, sir — He nodded, returning to the exit.

— Keep up the good work and Lex, get those two idiots out of the VIP area and do their job.

 

Minseok returned to the halls now toward a ladder leading into the basement. At the door two security guards were waiting for him and then they opened the door to for him to enter. A mini-lab was distributed across the room where men and women worked on the handling of cocaine and marijuana. Minseok headed to his desk where a man was sitting with a ipad where he counted the powder tablets.

— How many? — He asked as he approached, sitting in the chair facing the other, who smiled when saw him, his green eyes glittering.

— 50/50 ready for distribution. The southern puppies are eager to do business with you.

Minseok smirked and focused his attention on the table and on the large distribution map he had, with all his selling spots, for another dawn of work.

                                                                                                                                         

 

✤

**Arizona, USA. 8:30pm**

 

 

There were no words to describe the anger that consumed the man's body. It was so infuriating, it consumed his blood making him almost break the glass table in the middle of the room as he threw the bunch of keys. He had enough of all that. Next time, he'd get a gun and shoot his mouth. It couldn’t deal with that totally ridiculous situation.

— Oh, you're home, love. I thought you wouldn’t come here today and would sleep at your parents’ house — The sweet voice talked as a girl came out with her hair tied in a totally shabby bun and over her body a transparent apron. At the sight of the apron, the man almost went back through the door he had just entered.

— I went to find Mom in the restaurant as she asked me as soon as I left school. When I get there, guess what ...

— Another blind date? What was the girl like? Nicer than last time? Because let's face it, the last one was very strange! You deserve better, Chany!

— Hani, do you want to stop playing with this? My God, we are engaged and my mother keeps sending me on dates to find a bride! This is absurd and I cannot handle this any longer — he mumbled, throwing himself on the white couch, making the girl smile and sit next to him.

— Love, you stress over it because you want to. You know I've gotten over it the fact that your parents don’t like me. We're together, we'll get married soon ... Why bother with so little? It’s not really worth it, ok? — Said sweetly, kissing the cheek of the taller one who sighed still indignant — How was the class?

— The kids of second year are more attentive. Your idea of doing chemical experiments in the middle of each class was fantastic. They hope that someday I'll blow something up. I wanted to, but then the school would fire me.

— That’s nothing. I already exploded a couple of sectors in the factory and I haven’t been fired yet! — She laughed softly even though she spoke very seriously. She really blew up some of the factory department with small "tests." — I made dinner!

— Why do you hate me?

— It’s better this time. I'm sure!

— Honey, we talked about it. You don’t know how to cook and it's okay. You don’t have to be good in the kitchen. I could eat it anyway just to please you, but remember what happened last time?

— You've been hospitalized for food poisoning for a week — She said in a little pout as him raised both eyebrows as if to say, _"See?"_

— I'm going to order food, okay? We can eat Korean food this time!

— That's why your mother doesn’t find me a good future wife. Just because I poisoned you unintentionally when I tried to make a cake. Come on, everybody's makes mistakes!

— Yeah, everybody's makes mistakes. But let's not talk about my mother now, huh? —He hoarse, pulling the girl around the waist, making her sit on his lap. His lips went to the older neck nibbling the area, making her giggle low.

— Are you already trying to seduce me? — She said in a sigh as one of her breasts were squeezed by the big hand that somehow had already invaded the girl's shirt.

— I've gotten tired of work ... It's your duty to take care of me — He replied softly, totally distracted by kissing the pale skin. But the quick way it started, it ended. When he blinked, the girl was already far away with her arms crossed staring at him as if he had committed a crime — What did I do?

— A duty, Park?  How often are we going to talk about these patriarchal attitudes that society imposes? I have no obligation to you, even more involving sex!

— I was joking, love ... — He mumbled softly, slightly frustrated.

— I don’t want to know. Try to behave and get up ... I'll take good care of my fiancé and serve you the dinner that I prepared with such care. — She uttered the last sentence in a forced cuteness, disappearing into the kitchen leaving behind a sulky Chanyeol.

 

 

✤

 

**Yunnan, China. 7:00pm**

 

The doctor's clinical eyes carefully watched the fracture in the soldier's arm as his hands worked to take care of the wound, suturing fluidly. He loved his job and pursuing a medical career had been something he had always wanted from a young age, especially thanks to the influence of his older sister who was a great neurosurgeon, but unlike her he decided that his services would be better used for the sake of the motherland.

When Zhang Yixing first saw the People's Liberation Army parade through the streets of Beijing with their steady and synchronized steps, he thought it was there that he wanted to be in the future, saving lives and serving the country.

— Okay kiddo — He muttered as he finished tying the arm of the young soldier sitting on the stretcher and smiled at him. — Next time you jump from somewhere high be sure not to put your arm in the way.

— Thank you, sir — The soldier replied, bowing as hard as he could with the sling on, and Yixing watched him leave his small office.

A sigh quick to live his lips, although he liked the job, it wasn’t what he had in mind when he enlisted. He thought he would go to war and not be stuck in a military training base doomed to care for soldiers with simple problems. It had been so long since he had touched a weapon or used his knowledge of martial arts that he felt he had forgotten them even though he knew he had not. He left his office, his hour was up, and the new doctor was already at the infirmary working and went to the lodgings. Outside, the sun had set, and what illuminated the base of Yunnan was the reflectors scattered about the place, so strongly that it overshadowed the brightness of the moon and the stars, if there were any in the sky. Yixing found some cadets on the road who saluted him, paid respect to a Major who was passing by to finally reach the accommodation building. He was so tired he could barely wait to fell face first against the hard mattress of the bunk. He needed to rest his body and especially his mind, he felt as if something was out of place in his brain, maybe it was time for a checkup. He was having strange thoughts that did not seem to be his, but still ... They did not seem wrong at all.

He did everything on the automatic, took a shower, changed into a pair of green sweatpants, and finally laid down on the bottom of the bunk. Finally relaxing his body and allowing himself to enter the domains of Morpheus, hoping not to have strange dreams, only tranquility.

 

 

✤

**Lyon, France. 10:49pm**

 

 

The room would be in total darkness if it weren’t for the brightness of the screen. The eyes hidden by the glasses looked at everything in a completely attentive way. The screen was dark and all the brightness came from the white words that were typed quickly and concisely. It was like the screen of the command prompt although it was not in that specific program but in a browser totally different from the habitual one of the people used nowadays. A red led flashing, showing that a pendrive was being accessed and lightly illuminating the cup of coffee that had been forgotten on the floor as all the codes began to fill in screen almost in harmony. The boy had a notebook next to his keyboard, and every now and then, he peered at a line of command that was in doubt, even though he did it more often than he should.

He made a small pout when he saw the numbers had stopped spinning against the screen and an underline blinked waiting for a data. The pretty digits came out from the dark keys and went to his chin as his brow furrowed, demonstrating he was thinking hard about what he was seeing. Apparently someone had noticed his intrusions, since there was previously no such powerful firewall. He sighed softly, wondering if it was worth breaking that code and cheating through another port with encrypted packets or if that was exactly what they were hoping he would do. Not as if  he could be actually caught, after all, the ip was cloned and the MAC board was far from his true one, but still, he was not sure if he wanted do the way he was, jumping the classic network security barriers.

He finally gave up. He wanted to think a little bit more about that and get into the lower layer forums on the internet to see if anyone else was barred in that protocol. He left the screen quickly, closing all the virtual machines he had created in VMWare. He did a little check by the task manager in search of some abnormal execution until he was satisfied and considered the computer clean, thus making him unplug the pen drive. He pulled out the UTP cable from the entrance and put another one that was connected to the residential modem that shared the internet with his parents. Finally, he plugged the HD back into the computer, waiting for the same restart to start playing some game. As in a perfect timing, as soon as the game screen opened, the bedroom door had also been opened showing a woman with slim, well-toned body and long blond strands.

— You should be sleeping, Baek. Tomorrow you have class. — He heard his mother say in a slight scolding tone, making him roll his eyes. He didn’t need it any school, wished it could say that to the woman.

— I know, maman. I'm just going to finish this game and I'm going to bed, okay? — He said in a half-sigh, seeing the woman's eyebrow arch slightly disbelieving. — When Dad's coming back from Korea?

— Tomorrow, probably. He said your grandmother asked about you.

— I figured ... She always chokes me in a hug  when we go to Korea to visit her. Thankfully, when you married Dad, you made him stay here. I'm not much of a fan of there.

— You're not a fan of it, because you were born here and you're got used to France, dear. Which is funny, since you pulled all the eastern features of your father and nothing of mine, authentic French!

—Your uterus is a xerox machine, and it does not shock anyone.  I just do not want to think about how you scanned the face of Daddy in it — he said in a half-smile, watching his mother wince.

— Baekhyun ... Go to sleep! I don’t want to come back to your room and find you awake, do you understand, young man?

— Yes maman. Night’. — The tone was slightly frustrated but the woman didn’t seem to notice, closing the door. Byun turned his attention to the game screen, but his head seemed to go much farther ...

How did they notice his invasions when he had always been known in the cybernetic environment for never leaving a trace?

 

 

✤

**Colorado, USA. 08:00pm**

 

 

— I saw it! I saw it! I saw it! Aaaaaa — The cries took over the large kitchen, making the employees there all bristling. Soon the noise of busy hands against pots, hot oil against frying pan and boiling water began to make themselves present, while the waitress continued to talk excitedly — OMG! I saw the credential in his notebook!

She said clinging to the shoulders of the short man with short black hair and wide eyes who stared at her with his best poker face. He sighed, putting down the knife as he had stopped cutting an octopus on the table, paying full attention to the girl.

— What did you see, Heidi? — He asked, receiving a huge smile and his small body rocked back and forth.

— A food critic! The most famous critic of the state in your restaurant! Isn’t it awesome?

Yes, it was the awesome, he couldn’t help admitting, and only then did he understand why his team was emanating an apprehensive aura and had not informed him at all. In the corner of his eye he saw his sub-chef nudge one of the assistants to do his job right and rolled his eyes.

— Guys! — He shouted attracting everyone's attention — It's a food critic, great. But by chance, do you see me nervous? Don’t need to be flustered, just do the usual if he likes the food, wonderful! If not, it’s his problem. — He spoke looking into the eyes of each of his staff to finally face the waitress again. — Heidi, while you're here who's responsible for your tables?

Her eyes doubled at his words and a series of apologies came out from her mouth, while she ran out of the kitchen leaving him behind with a smile on his face.

Do Kyungsoo was a chef, owner of a prestigious Korean cuisine restaurant. The restaurant had been a venture set up by his parents who, after their death, had passed the place to his hands. Kyungsoo had  practically grow up inside the kitchen and hadn’t seen why not follow his father's career. His specialty was the Nakji bokkeum - pieces of octopus scrambled with vegetables in a bunch of peppermint, peppercorns, green peppers and red peppers - and that's what the critic asked for, making Do smirk.

— Do you think we'll get a low score? — His sub-chef asked, making him shrug.

— I'm the best cook in this state, he wouldn’t dare give me a low score, Dani.

— Cocky. Best cook my ass.

He laughed and went back to work. He might not be the best cook in all of Colorado, but no one could deny that he had a natural talent and that he was practically a master of the knives.

 

 

✤

**Edinburgh, Scotland. 00:17am**

Only a hoodie protected the body of the icy wind at dawn. Even though it was summer, the thermometers ticked close to eighteen degrees and who knows what was the thermal feeling there at that time of the night. Still, the boy walked in calm steps, his hands inside the pocket of his hoodie that had small dried bloodstains from another fight.

He was a thin, tall, dark-haired boy. His pale skin made clear the many purple spots in his body from every illegal fight he had entered in the dead of night, seeking some sense, seeking pain, seeking anything that moved him beyond that great nothing that consumed and tormented him in all the stages of hypomania.

Of course there were the medicines. He took them regularly out of obligation. His parents always looked like two neurotics tucking those black-striped tablets down his throat as if that would help him in something. As if that would make a difference.

He remembers the first time he had a major crisis and had been hospitalized. _Borderline_ , they said. Compulsive Behavior. Self-destructive behavior. Hostility. Social isolation. Mood swings. Sehun had been summed up as a set of symptoms that should be solved with three daily medications. Psychologists? No. It's a serious case, put the heavier drugs to stop him from trying to kill himself again.

 _What a joke!_ His parents told him every time they wanted the best for him, but they didn’t even ask what the boy wanted. Sehun was no longer Sehun and became a carrier of emotionally unstable personality disorder. Borderline personality disorder. Border for the most intimate, as he used to say.

He lived inside the house all the time. It was safer, they said. And that was why almost every night, Sehun fled from his room, crawled into empty streets with some dubious characters and engaged in wrestling matches, in the eagerness to find anything. After all, the pain of breaking bones was much better than feeling the bitterness and emptiness that dwelt in his chest not wanting to leave.

He climbed the tree in front of his house, leaning on one of the branches to jump over the high wall that existed to keep him away from the outside. He pated the head of his dog that was supposed to bark with that movement - but Sehun had trained well to keep quiet - and without much effort, used the animal's house to go to the window sill of his own room, finally to enter it in the same way he had left. His parents no longer knew how to stop him, so they just accepted.

He took off all his clothes, not caring about the new set of bruises he had gained, and headed for the bathroom, opening the shower register, entering the hot water. In the middle of the bath, Sehun sat on the cold floor, hugging his own body as he sobbed loudly, his lungs begging for mercy, the tightness in his chest becoming even more destructive. It happened often, but the boy had never gotten used to it.

At some point he made to the bed, dressed and cradling in a thick duvet. Winter was coming, if he remembered well. The dawn would be even colder. He swallowed the medicine on the nightstand, which, as much as he didn’t like them, made him sleep. And that was better than anything. It was almost automatic, the pill went down the esophagus and shortly after finding the stomach, Sehun was sleeping.

_The snow fell incessantly. He had seen that place at some point, just didn’t remember exactly when. It was the middle of the night, half past two to three hours past midnight he could see how accustomed he was. At that moment, Sehun was standing on top of a building, quite high. On the edge of it, there was a man hugging his body as he sobbed. He did not know who he was nor remembered seeing him at some point. It had oriental features and the lips were slightly pulled up into the corner. The black straw of hair fell on his forehead, showing that they were not cut in while and the black bags under his eyes showed how the boy was downcast. Eyes heavy with sadness stared at Sehun for a few seconds._

_"You need to protect them. Find them. You are the only ones able to save the world from the doom that is about to happen. Remember the valkyries”_

_It was all Sehun had heard from the man's mouth and when he thought of saying something, the man simply flung himself off the rooftop, opening his arms as if waiting for death with open arms._

Before he heard the shock of the body on the asphalt, Sehun woke up. Sweating, feeling the pain of the fall into his own body. As much as it seemed, something in Sehun said that this was not just a nightmare. It was a warning.

**Something had been awakened.**


	2. Melatonin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We back!  
> I hope y'all enjoy!

_ In humans,  _ **_melatonin_ ** _ has its _

_ main function in regulating sleep _ ....

  
  
  


**Lyon, France. 08:31am**

  
  


He was late and it was nothing new, he always did his best to get as late as possible in school, after all, he hated it. He started studying at that school in early high school, and was now in his third year in that horrible, toxic environment. Not that the boy thought schools were torture camps that should be abolished so that all teenagers would live free. No. The problem was never the place, but the people. The problem was always the people.

The backpack was only in one arm, slightly crooked as he crossed the yard, the glasses slipping minimally in the nose. Not that he had nerdy features of American movies, but he had a considerable myopia that made him wear eyeglasses over his eyes for the most time of the day - although he often forgot about it in front of the computer and ended up with a terrible headache - and that was the reason that it was on his face. He was almost celebrating the success of his arrival in the classroom without any problem, but soon felt a force against his body, making him take a few steps back and feel a slight throb in his shoulder.

— Don’t you look where you going, Chinaman? The small eyes doesn’t let you see where you’re going, uh? Fucking stupid — Baekhyun sighed and didn’t answer at all. He had given up even in the first year to explain that he was not Chinese, but French, and that if they were to offend him, they would at least speak his correct descendence which was Korean.

— Why don’t you go back to your filthy country and eat the dogs that are on the street, huh? Must be why you're so dumb ... Insect feeding should fuck with your tiny brain, uh? — Now it was another one that spoke, pushing Byun's body against the wall, which again he didn’t react. Coming head-on with them would never prove effective. Baekhyun was a thin person and had no knowledge of body fighting.

— Aren’t you going to say anything, Chinaman? Oh wait! You don’t understand our language, do you? — The third one laughed, and Baekhyun held on tight not to roll his eyes. They were getting worse with these jokes, really — Let me try to speak in your stupid language. Go fuck yourself.

It was intentional. Baekhyun raised a hand to his own forehead as he rolled his eyes in a clear demonstration that he had heard the stupidest thing in the universe. The problem was what it brought with it later.

The backpack was pulled with full force from his arm and his glasses became a bunch of pieces of acrylic on the floor as a punch was delivered against his stomach, causing him to squirm and kneel on the floor. That was just an opportunity to be kicked at least a couple of times, to finally feel a strong footfall against his back that knocked him down all over the floor, leaving a perfect footprint against the white shirt of his uniform.

After that, the three stooges - as Byun liked to call them - fled, leaving him flat on the floor, moaning in pain. It took a little over five minutes for Byun to rise again. As the class was going on, the hallways were empty. And even if he wasn’t, he doubted he would be helped by anyone.

It was an elite school, after all. People who were absurdly wealthy, within the standards of French society who squandered their money back and forth. How many millions Baekhyun had stolen from the companies of many of them because he knew they were involved in corruption?

He didn’t do it for revenge, never did. All the money stolen was from the ones the boy was sure they had won by illicit means and took from them to try and give it back to those who really owed. Whether making donations to institutions anonymously, or sponsoring something anonymously like housing developments or things like that.

The truth was that the French-Korean boy was already used to all that school violence since it had entered. Talking to teachers and coordinators was the most useless thing there could be.  _ Xenophobia at our school? Oh no dear, it must have been a misunderstanding, huh? _ He listened to it more often than he liked, eventually he just giving up.

When he came out of the bathroom, the uniform cleaner and the bruises already cared for - The first aid kit in his backpack became more important than the notebook - he headed for the classroom, limping a bit in the process. He asked for permission to enter, and he saw only a nod allowing his presence, causing him to crawl to the last bench and cringe on it as it was already his custom.

— I was sent a gay porn video yesterday. Of course I don’t watch these shit, gays for me should all die... But look at my surprise? It was an Asian porn with our darling Byun giving his ass and moaning like a whore with a stick the size of my finger inside of him — The creature at his side spoke low but loud enough for some people around to hear.

Of course, every asian in porn was Baekhyun. What's new in that? Why would they still laugh at the same jokes when they've been used a million times?

— I saw this video. He moaned like a cat in heat. Poor Baekhyun, he's spending too much money since we have decent food and not his bugs and now he has to give his ass to support himself.

— At least he doesn’t have his ass all stretched out, right? Orientals doesn’t even have a decent cock. Want to see my dick, Byun? Want to see what a real dick is?

Baekhyun sighed and just laid his head against the table, hugging his own backpack. He just wanted the end-of-class signal to strike and he could get out of that hell and return to the cyber world that worked perfectly as his refuge.

 

✤

 

**London, England. 8:30pm**

  
  


When there was no bike race and his schedule on the Bourbon had already ended, JongIn used the late afternoon to run. Even in the cold, he made his way to his suburban home by foot. It had been the way he found to exercise and clear the his mind. He had been having the same nightmare with an absurd frequency, and yet he had no idea what it was, other than feeling some strange lapses, as if he had done something totally different than he would or was far away in a totally different place. JongIn cut his way through a small park, it was too late to have children playing or couples dating and dark enough for criminals to take advantage, but he knew everyone in that neighborhood, had spent too much time in the streets to have a face known and although he had never been involved in the crime world he had too many colleagues in the business to be targeted. His feet led him to a deserted street where he could go all the way and turn around to get to his apartment, or he could cut his way through a dark stinking alley, he had obviously chosen the easiest option but wished he hadn’t.

JongIn should have been more careful, should have paid attention to his steps and especially to his rear, but he was so sure of himself. He knew the neighborhood with the palm of his hand and every resident there to make him feel insecure, it made no sense to be careful in his own habitat, right? Wrong.

— Are you in a hurry, Kai? — The voice sounded behind him. In front of him he could see the silhouette of a strong man as if he were guarding the exit. JongIn stood on his side, not turning his back on either end of the alley.

— I just wanted to get home, man. Are you guys lost?

He asked, taking a few more steps back until his back was against the wall. He had no idea who they were, but he knew they knew him from the races, no one in the streets knew him as Kai, only on the races.

— You told me to come when I was sure I would win over you. I came to play in my playground.

JongIn took a deep breath and blew the air from his lungs lightly through his nose. It wasn’t because he didn’t participate in the world of crime that he wasn’t wary of. He always carried a small knife sheathed in the waistband of his trousers. After all, he lived in London and in one of its most dangerous neighborhoods. The man took a few steps toward the light and JongIn could see his face clearly recognizing him as his opponent in his last race.

— Our problem should be solved on the speedway, not here. It's not my fault if you decided to do a tortoise cosplay and lose it to me.

JongIn kicked himself mentally for his sharp tongue and the lack of a filter between his brain and his mouth. It was clear that his comment did not please because his opponent gripped a chain dirty with grease in his hand. JongIn wasn’t good with any kind of weapon, he knew how to punch and kick, take the opponent to the knockout, but attacking to kill mortally he had never done nor did he know if he had the courage to do so.

The other man at the end of the alley worried him, it wouldn’t be a pretty fight.

— At least make a fair fight, two against one is not cool. I was alone when I defeated you.

The man laughed and he didn’t liked it at all.

— So Kai. I’ll show you what I can do.

The guy threw himself on top of him and despite being prepared for any movement by the other, yet the blow of his gloved right wrist with the chain caught him straight in the arm. JongIn staggered back but wasted no time and also punched the other in the face. It wasn’t a pretty fight and JongIn was more worried if the other guy would join the fight and kill him. So he didn’t pay attention taking a kick in the left leg that makes him fall to his knees on the floor, soon followed by another kick in his chest.

_ "Come on, Jongin," _ he whispered to himself and then lunged at his opponent, deflecting the blow against his face, holding the other arm tightly, pulling him forward, and lifting his knee, JongIn slams against the pectoral of the other giving him a sequence of blows that made him fall to the ground, but ended up taking him down too by the curling chain he had in his hand against his leg.

The brunette was tired and knew that in the next attack it would end up succumbing, he had never been good at fighting, after all his thing was the race. He was good with a motorcycle underneath him, or a steering wheel in his hands.

— Grab the knife — A deep voice spoke close to his ear, startling him, JongIn's eyes went from the knife on the floor to the owner of the voice that was down beside him. He was Asian guy just like him, had pale skin and wore a white chef's outfit. Who the hell was that man, and why was he there by his side? He had no idea, no sense at all — Get the damn knife!

JongIn had no reaction time. A kick was struck against his face, making him feel the metallic taste of blood in his mouth and the hot liquid trickling down his nose, dirtying his face. His head hit the asphalt and for a few seconds his vision turned white with several bright spots. The brunette coughed getting in his back and four, but hadn’t done more than that, in no time he was hit again, now by the chains against his back.

— What the hell! What are you doing? Get the fucking knife and fight back, man!

The object was a few inches away, he had released at some point in the fight. JongIn dragged himself a little close to the knife, but before his long fingers could touch the handle he was kicked again and devastated by a sore cough.

— You’re a fucking idiot.

When he got to his senses, the asian guy had the knife in his hand. With a lightness and dexterity, he threw himself against his enemy, his shoulder against his chest, both of them once again fell on the floor, the hand that held the knife holding it close to the man's throat and, just as fast as everything had happened, was also the blade against throat sliding through the skin reaching the aorta artery.

— What did you do? — JongIn shouted as he approached the two of them, for a moment, his wounds and pains forgotten. The blood pouring from his wound stung his skin and clothing as he tried unsuccessfully to stop the blood putting both hands against the neck of his enemy, who no longer moved — What did you do?

— Hey Jack! — He jumped up at the cry coming from the other side of the alley watching a big guy run toward him, but being intercepted by the Chef, who threw the knife into his chest and brought him to the ground.

— WHAT DID YOU DO?

— Just saved your ass! You should thanks me.

Thank you? How could JongIn thank him? He was in an alley with two corpses, all bruised and soiled with blood and likely to be charged with a double homicide. How could thank him?

  
  


✤

 

**Arizona, EUA. 7:12pm**

  
  


— Yours dark circles are glaring —  The woman commented in a little pout, sitting on the arm of the couch as she watched him enter the room, throwing his briefcase on the floor. She didn’t remember seeing him as tired as he was at that moment.

— There's something wrong with me, Hani. Something is very wrong — The man began to say, sitting on the couch while hiding his face with both big hands. A loud sigh had been given and the woman approached, making a small affection on his shoulder — What happened, Yeollie?

— Those nightmares that will not let me. I’m always seeing that guy throw himself over the building every day. It seems like a scene that lasts forever — He whimpered, laying his head on the woman's lap and she caressed his black hair — I get a feeling that my mind is not mine anymore.

— What do you mean babe?

— I feel that my mind is shared. I feel that what is in my head belongs not only to me, but to other people. Like I feel different things. Sensations. Tastes. Thoughts. It's like ... It's like other people live in my head.

— Isn’t this just the fatigue of the numerous tests you have to correct, uh? It must be some migraine and that's why you're like this, babe! — Hani calmly spoke, this time making a gentle touch on the other's face.

— I don’t know, babe. Don’t know. Today I started chemistry and suddenly the students said that I was speaking French. I don’t even know French! Then, at lunch time, when I was eating a Cheeseburger, I felt like Sauerbraten!

— What ???

— Exactly! I didn’t even know that food. I didn’t even know this food existed! When I put it on Google, I saw it was typically German food. Hani, I've never eaten anything German, I don’t even know how to speak that name without twist my tongue!

— Honey, really! That must be exhaustion. Someone must have commented on this at some point and at the junction of little things that have inside your skull, everything is messed up. Don’t be like this! Today is Friday, you can rest a lot, huh? — She spoke, leaving a simple peck on the lips of her fiance who just sighed nodding — Can I tell you about my day?

— Of course babe. You know I like to hear about your adventures at Bifrost Company S.A — He said in a half smile, making her laugh.

— So the factory has some weird stuff. You know I'm the main Chemical Engineer! This makes me have access to all departments, after all, it's my job to evaluate the products and make sure they don’t have anything dangerous. But for a few days, strange people have been coming in. And today, guess what!!!!

— What?

— I don’t have access to everything anymore! There’s a room that my badge simply doesn’t open. And when I asked the superiors, they said that they were things that didn’t belong to me and that I should stay away and do only my current job!

She said with a slight amount of disbelief.

— But you work in a pharmacological industry, several remedies, various elements ... How could they have something that you can’t verify the quality?

— Right! I need to verify, if not, it can be a risk even for those who work inside the factory. I thought it was suspicious, really.

— Do you think they're messing with what they shouldn’t? Chemical weapons, maybe? — Chanyeol asked curiously, turning his full attention to his fiancée.

— Honestly, I don’t know. But that there's something very strange going on, ah, there is!

  
  


✤

 

**Berlin, Germany. 9:05am**

  
  


Minseok was fifteen when he entered the life of the crime. The son of Korean immigrants who had tried to find a new and better life in Germany, he became lost at the age of eight and had to learn two new languages. It wasn’t easy, learning German and English wasn’t a walk in the park and the incredible life that was promised did not come. With the new country the Kim family gained only more debts and addictions. As his father sank into the game, his mother worked to pay bills and put food on the table, just like him.

It started small. He sold some marijuana cigarettes, then switched to LSD pills, and his organization and talent caught the attention of the region's major drug dealers, and then he was recruited to Tricalae. He knew that what he did was wrong, that many lives were lost each year to drugs, that the network to which he was part wasn’t dealing with only some chemical compounds that made you have a good time. But he tried hard not to think about it, it had to be the money he made in the crime that had given his mother a decent life, paid better medical treatment for his sister, and kept the Kims in a stable position.

As long it wasn’t his life that was being harmed, or someone he loves, it was okay. That was his motto. It was what he always carried with him.

  
  


Three out of four cell phones he owned didn’t stop ringing. Minseok just wanted to throw them away and destroy all, but he'd been content to break almost all the furniture in his room. He was furious to say the least, he had always boasted of his organization and firm grip on his men, especially the respect that his name had in that region, but even the fear he carried in his name wasn’t enough to stop him from being stolen. And the cargo they stole was exactly the one Minseok had no idea of what actually was inside it and was the truck his boss had personally set up, so not only his reputation was in danger but his neck as well.

The phone where only those who had contact was the top management of the organization played again and Minseok took it with a trembling hand and bloody of punches that had given against the wall. He took the phone to his ear, and took a deep breath before answering the call.

— Minseok talking — He said under his cat's eyes closed tight.

— You have two days to get the load back, if you don’t, you already know the consequences.

  
  


✤

 

**Marseille, France. 8:01pm**

  
  
  


The game wasn’t bad. Quite the opposite. It was a fair and tight competition that ended in a one-on-one draw, which was seen as a disadvantage in some way for the Marseille team since it was playing at home, but nothing alarming. They were still on the game.

Suho's shirt was on his shoulder and on his face was an obvious expression of discontent as he crossed the green field with the twenty two players. He went straight to the interview panel and didn’t even hear the manager shouting as he strode into the locker room, ignoring every microphone that had been placed close to him.

He slammed his hands into his locker when he arrived inside, totally irritated with himself. Not that he was bad in the game, because it wasn’t. He even scored the only team goal. The whole problem was focused on Choi Minho and how his head was extremely fucked.

That Kim had serious problems when they faced PSG because of their team's top scorer, that was a universal truth. The good thing was that both were attackers and had tendencies to be on opposite sides and not have a direct clash with the player. The problem was always the after.

Suho, in the most agreeable way possible, always went to the top scorer of the opposing team and congratulated him with the intention of changing both shirts, as was usual in some games. But Choi always ignored him. Fully. Suho held out his hand and the other player simply walked straight past him as if he saw nothing, as if Suho were totally invisible. But that, again, was nothing new. As much as that always broke his heart, he was used to all that contempt.

His whole anger was concentrated in that second, by an unfortunate comment he had heard from his teammate. He knew well that he had no prejudice, after all he was very well received by his team. The problem was to hear a  _ "Suho, he will always ignore you ... He must think homosexuality is contagious and runs away from it as the devil flees from the cross. He is afraid to get close to you" _ That, destroyed everything that existed within itself.

Be ignored? OK! Have contempt? All right, It was really okay. But being seen as a disease just because he had different sexual preference was almost absurd.

In the end, he gave up being irritated by the situation. Prejudice here, prejudice there, he got used to it even if he should not. He took a quick shower and put on the team's tracksuit knowing that at the end game collective interview he wouldn’t be able to escape, would be dragged by the manager or by the coach himself for running away from the final interviews on the panel.

He left the locker room watching a teammate or other, exchanging some handshakes and some scrotal comments typical of the players. The crowd was almost totally out of the way for what they could see and now he crossed the inside of the club to go to the cabin room until be stopped by PSG's top scorer.

— Can I talk to you for a second? — Kim sighed, folding his arms without saying anything. Always wanted to talk to Choi, after all, he was his idol and almost love of his life ... But he was really annoyed by the comment — I heard what your defender said and ...

— You don’t owe me any explanation. If that all, I had to go to an interview.

— Kim. You're too nice. You want to keep a very strange friendship with me. I don’t trust you. Not because you're gay or whatever. I don’t care, you relate to whoever you want ... But look at this! We're both the top scorers of this campaign. The national French team at any time will be calling for the World Cup.

— You think I want to take advantage of it? Really?

— And why not, Kim? I am your biggest threat. And we both know it's only a matter of time before I get over you. It is obvious that all your interest in approaching me is to try to fuck me up, I can even see your attempts at seductions.

— You know what, Choi? Fuck you! — Suho spoke in utter disbelief, not wanting to hear anything. He passed straight over the other player and headed for the cabin room.

 

— Where were you, you idiot?

— Sorry, Belli. I had a misfortune halfway here. What Choi looks beautiful, he has of stupid. I want him to die.

Not that he really wanted him to, he was angry.

— You can kill him on Monday. You have photoshoot together! Now go to your interview.

— We what?

He asked incredulously.

— Interview, Suho. Interview.

She pushed the player without even bothering to see him sitting completely pale in his chair.  What else was going to happen to him?

  
  


✤

 

**Edinburgh, Scotland. 00:02am**

  
  
  
  


This time he was more comfortable, after all, he didn’t want to participate in any fight. He hadn’t had to run away this time, he told his parents that he wanted to walk a little through the empty city and he seemed totally controlled and even calm comparing to the impulsive and destructive behaviors he used to have.

The truth was that since he had woken up, he couldn’t get the dream he had in the middle of the night of his mind. Of course he always had many nightmares consuming him since forever, but he had something different. It seemed too real to simply ignore as if it were some trick of his head because of his psychic pathology.

The place of the dream, in fact, wasn’t very far. Twenty minutes walked and was facing the gigantic building that had been the scene of his nightmare. He didn’t feel like going to the penthouse. His head was raised as if he wondered why that man had thrown himself overhead. And why he never heard this news, even though he knew that suicides tended to be stifled by the media.

He should be, but he was not frightened when he heard footsteps close by. In fact, he didn’t even turn his face from the trajectory of the fall when he noticed the presence of someone at his side. It's not as if being hurt was something he feared.

— My dreams are getting more and more strange  — He heard the stranger beside him say, making him turn his head and really look at him. Sehun wasn’t good with that nationality thing, but the man seemed Chinese. The only thing he thought was strange, it was how someone could be in that cold only with green sweatpants, which resembled a lot the army clothes— Before it was the guy falling from above. Now you.

— Did you dream about the man too? — Sehun spoke to the other for the first time, making him raise his eyebrows.

— Yes. And you know that, after all, you're my allucination — The Chinese guy said incredulously and honestly Sehun didn’t care, even if it didn’t make the slightest sense.

— He said something about Valkyrie. Valkyries are from Norse mythology. They are dísir, smaller feminine deities who served Odin. Whom chooses the dead, in a literal translation of English.

— English? Dude, we're talking Mandarin.

— We’re not. I can’t speak Mandarin — Sehun shrugged, looking back at the building — I don’t think it's a mere nightmare. It's some warning. There are others.

— Others?

— What's your name? Where you are from?

He asked as he looked back at the other.

— Why is it important? This is just a dream!

— Can you answer?

— Zhang Yixing. China — He ended up speaking, even though he was disbelieving.

— You really exist, don’t you? It's not just a thought or a thing in my head. That means there are others like this....

— What are you talking about?

— I 'm Oh Sehun. We're in Scotland. Edinburgh to be more specific. If you think it's just a dream, when you wake up, look for my name on the internet relating to my country. You'll find something about my father, Oh SeungWoo. He's a Korean who came to Scotland when he was very young and is one of the best English teachers in the country ... I'll look for your name, too. See if I can find photos and confirm if you are just a delirium or if you really exist.

— Right. Let's assume that this is true and you exist. If this is not a dream, what does it all mean?

— That we were awakened by something... And if this happened, it must be because something horrible will happen.

— What a horrible thing? — He asked, but he had been ignored by the other for a few minutes.

— Who chooses the dead? — He repeated again, his eyes staring at the roof of the building — I think they have already chosen the first one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> any questions can be done here: https://curiouscat.me/Dimsum_saboroso

**Author's Note:**

> You can find us on twitter and cc:  
> Shiro: https://twitter.com/Dimsum_saboroso /// https://curiouscat.me/Dimsum_saboroso  
> Moon: https://twitter.com/DNG458 /// https://curiouscat.me/DNG458


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